blind. Oh, Ali! The suffering escaped the dreadful death preof that day The old woman's monotonous voice had become a wail, and she beat her head with her feeble arms. The strange story, corroborated as it was by the witness of the book, was evidently true. But what of her explanation of the marshmen's sudden frenzy of rage against the foreigner? Could one accept it as a nineteenth-century case of actual possession by evil spirits, or was she speaking figuratively I had often heard the people speak of tantals, the mad djinns feared and dreaded by every Marsh Arab. powerful shaikh of my acquaintance had admitted to me, in lowered tones, that he had heard their laughter. But I had never come across a case of possession such as those recorded in the New Testament. A Waili, waili," wept Harimah the Blind. “Such is the lot of women. I gave my eyes for him, yet he came not again. Long have I waited, but in vain; and now I am old, old, and blind. Her voice died away. I ventured another question or two, but she stood in unheeding silence, reliving, perhaps, what may have been the romance and the tragedy of her youth. "He came not again." This, then, was the end of the story. The owner of the book had pared for him. Grateful for his deliverance, ignorant of its price, he had perhaps fled to safety. Or might it be that, escaping from one death, he had found another in the endless mazes of the Marsh ? I should never know; the book and the old woman had told all they could, and the Marsh would not give up its secret. Harimah, waking from her trance, rose and turned listlessly away to her hut. As she passed me, without a glance, I caught an almost inaudible murmur Go, and may Allah protect you in your going." Was it a prayer, hardly formulated in her dim old mind, that the fate of the unknown traveller might not overtake me also? Unsuspicious, unafraid, and confident, trusting in the friendship of the simple Marsh-folk, he too had wandered in the wilderness of reeds, alone of his kind. And suddenly he had found himself in conflict with forces of primitive passion that neither he nor they could stem. With the book still in my hand I walked back to the mashhuf. "To the Chains? asked Bahalool. I glanced up at the sun, now past its zenith. 66 "No," I said with a shiver, 'to the river." WALLENSTEIN-THE ENIGMA OF HISTORY. BY CAPTAIN B. H. LIDDELL HART. THE enigma of history," thus we have styled him, though the title Father of German unity," or again, "Father of grand strategy," would have been equally just-that is, if we can associate so homely a word as "father" with that cold unemotional mind, so utterly detached from the instincts and prejudices of normal humanity, soaring to a purely intellectual atmosphere too rarefied for ordinary minds to breathe. How little is commonly known of this greatest of politico military adventurers, who rose to a power only surpassed in modern history by Napoleon, and without the aid of any springboard of opportunity such as the French revolution afforded the great Corsican. In Germany, admittedly, "Der Friedlander " is a national hero, a common figure of romance and drama, enshrined for posterity in Schiller's immortal verse. Strange. that the national hero in each case should be an alien -for France a Corsican, for Germany a Ozech. But to Englishmen, what does the name of Wallenstein convey ? Usually little more than a vague association with the laying waste of Germany in a barbarous struggle inspired by perverted religion, summed up in some such phrase as "the atrocities of Tilly and Wallenstein." Even in the volumes of the Encyclopædia Britannica' but a bare page and a half are devoted to the most unique and many-sided character in modern history, a man who in a mystery-loving world stands out as the most unfathomable of all human puzzles. His very appearance breathed mystery, outdoing Cassius, "tall, spare, and sallow; with small, but quick, penetrating dark eyes. A cold, stern, even repulsive earnestness was ever fixed upon his high gloomy brow; and nothing but his boundless profusion and liberality kept the trembling crowd of attendants round him." Haughty and reserved, sparing of speech as he was ready with his pen, Wallenstein, as the memoirs of Richelieu tell us, favour, tells us : Actions of other time Wallenstein issued spirit and enterprise were sure the order that only red sashes to meet with his approbation, were to be worn; a young even when bordering on ex- officer instantly tore off an travagance. Wit, promptness, embroidered sash that he had and originality were passports proudly worn and trampled it to his favour; but the quali- underfoot. Wallenstein, hearties he valued most were pride, ing of this act, promoted him ambition, daring, and resolu- for his spirit of discipline. tion. He had a marked aver- Again, out riding one day, a sion to regular court-jesters as soldier, caught pillaging, was well as buffoons of every kind; brought before him. "Hang he was rarely seen to laugh; but up the wretch," was Wallenmen of genius and talent were stein's curt order, whereupon the sure of his friendship and pro- man drew his sword, and calling tection. He was a firm friend out, "If I am to die, I shall to the soldiers, and never lost at least die guilty," rushed at an opportunity of speaking in the General. He was instantly their favour, In rewarding or disarmed-but pardoned also. promoting officers, he was guided solely by merit, and never influenced by family connections, or by recommendations from men of rank, not even by those of the Emperor himself." Several anecdotes survive to show the way in which he gained his hold on the vast and heterogeneous armies of mercenaries who flocked wherever and whenever his banner was raised. Isolani, a leader of light horse, rewarded by 4000 crowns for a feat of arms, lost it in gambling the same night at Wallenstein's quarters, whereupon a page at once placed 2000 ducats before him. On running to the General's apartment to thank him for such generosity, Wallenstein merely pointed to a report just received of the movement of a Swedish convoy. Isolani took the hint, gathered his men, and set forth to capture it. An a Before passing on to his career, it is advisable briefly to sketch the immediate origins of the Thirty Years' War, the background for his meteoric passage across the stage of history. Fundamentally clash between Protestantism and Catholicism-and the political motives interwoven with the religious threads,-its interminable and kaleidoscopic course was made possible, if not inevitable, by the disunity of Germany, the loose and illdefined framework of the Empire. A conglomeration of principalities, of vastly different size and power, over whom the Emperor exercised but a nominal authority, its natural defects were made worse by the fact that on the death of the Emperor his successor was elected by the vote of seven of the greatest princes, termed Electors, three religious and four temporal. Apart, there- Bohemian representatives. It fore, from the resources of his own State, his control depended on the acquiescence of the other States, and on how far he succeeded in playing off some against the others. The first phase of this politicoreligious struggle was terminated by the Convention of Passau in 1552 and the Augsburg Treaty of religious pacification springing from it, but, like all attempts to stabilise things as they are," to set fixed bounds to nations and tendencies that grow and change, it was foredoomed to failure. South Germany was the cockpit of the contending interests. Here, in 1607, a religious riot in Donauwörth caused this free city to be deprived of its privileges in brutal manner, and annexed by Catholic Bavaria. The other free cities, taking alarm, formed with certain princes the Protestant Union, for mutual defence, to which in opposition sprang up the Catholic League under the Elector of Bavaria. The two parties faced each other wrangling for nine years, when the smouldering fire burst in a blaze. The actual outbreak came in Bohemia, where the Emperor Mathias, after obtaining the crown by a mixture of fraud and force, sought to break the charter of Bohemian Protestantism granted by his predecessor, Rudolph. On the 23rd May 1618, the commissioners were pitched from the windows of Prague Castle by an irate crowd of was the signal for the Thirty Years' War, that was to leave Germany little better than a desert, to reduce its population from sixteen millions to little more than four, to destroy as many as thirty thousand villages. Albrecht Eusebius Wenzeslaus of Waldstein, better known in history as Wallenstein, was born at Herrmanic in Bohemia on the 15th of September 1583. His parents were Protestants, and far from wealthy or highly placed, factors that make his amazing success the more astonishing in an age and an empire where heredity was almost the only key to higher position. Perhaps, however, in his Protestant origin and upbringing we can trace the partial clue to his subsequent attitude of toleration in an age of religious bitterness without parallel in history. As a boy, we are told that he was averse to study-a not unknown feature in the biographies of successful men,-of ungovernable temper, and fond only of military games. There is a very general, and well-based, distrust of the boyhood anecdotes of great men; the legends that cluster round their early days bear such marked resemblances as to suggest the manufactured product. But one such story of Wallenstein perhaps deserves mention; that when rebuked one day by an uncle for speaking more in the tone of a prince than the son of mere gentlefolk, the youthful Albrecht re I may yet live to become one. The phrase may have been paralleled countless times, the achievement rarely. An orphan before he reached his teens, the boy passed under the care first of one uncle and then of another, the latter, a Catholic, placing him in a college established by the Jesuits. His conversion, baited by the promise of a release from Latin studies, proved no difficult matter. has torted, "If I am not a prince, progressive minds of seventeenth century science. Keppler, the great astronomer, was such a devotee, and "acquired more fame for his accurate forecast of the Emperor Mathias' death than for his discovery of the independent motion of the heavenly bodies.' If scientific discovery discovery robbed us of this belief in astrology, we must concede that a strange yet undeniable exaltation exists in the idea that our destinies might be linked with the stars-the human palm, so popular in modern days, is far less inspiring and more prosaic. Further, if Wallenstein was really guided in his actions by these celestial omens, the excellence of their counsel must be recognised. Later an arrangement was made for him to accompany a young and wealthy noble who was setting out on a foreign tour, visiting in turn France, Spain, Germany, England, Holland, and Italy. Apart from its broadening influence on Wallenstein during his receptive years, the tour is of interest mainly because Peter Verdungo, the mathematician and astrologer, accompanied the party, from which we can probably date Wallenstein's famed devotion to the mysterious and speculative science. Thus in Italy, for whose people he ever entertained contempt, he made a long stay in order to pursue at Padua his study of astrology. If it be thought strange that any one whose later career proved him so immeasurably above the prejudices and mental limitations of his age, should dabble in this discredited realm of study, it is worth recalling that astrology not only exercised a fascination for the rulers of the time, but also for the most From Padua, spurred on by the prospects thus foretold for him, he went to join the Imperial army then warring with the Turks. His early hopes of a rapid rise to fame were soon dashed by the hard discovery that the door to high promotion is rarely unlocked save to those who possess the keys of influence or money. He had served several campaigns before he even rose to command a company of infantry. One chance opened, only to close with speed. His brotherin-law, the celebrated Count Zerotin, recommended him as chamberlain to the Archduke Mathias. Zerotin, in whom candour and truth, rare bedfellows, were for once synonymous, frankly avowed in this request that it was in order |